


teach me how to dream

by castlestr33t



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Harry, M/M, Prostitute Harry, Stripper Harry, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-24 00:43:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6135607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castlestr33t/pseuds/castlestr33t
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>harry gets fucked by older men for money before he falls for his teacher</p>
            </blockquote>





	teach me how to dream

The night is cold. In Harry’s defense, it’s a frosty December night in the South of London and the fishnet top that clings to his lanky frame isn’t doing him much of a favour against the cold that is nipping at his skin and turning his cheeks and neck a bright, flushed red. He’s leaning against the wall that connects the run down brewery and the petit coffee shop that has just been opened by a lovely woman in her fifties called Margaret (on days when he should be at school but ends up not going to avoid beatings - which is gonna “change” now because his mum had enrolled him at a new school a good twenty minutes from his house, but still - he goes in and orders a blueberry muffin and a hot chocolate with his book tucked underneath his arm) and the harsh jags of the wall is digging into the flesh of his pale back.

Wednesday nights like these are usually fast-paced, businessmen looking for a quick fuck to get rid of the midweek-blues, but tonight is sluggishly slow and Harry wants to punch himself in the thigh for standing here all night. 

Until he looks up again, his fringe falling over his forehead and an extravagant car is pulling up against the bump of the curb and the window is rolling down, steam rolling out from the end of the cigarette which is placed in between the space between the male’s fingers. Harry refrains from coughing. That’s not sexy. The way he walks over to the car and leans over is sexy though. (gentle swaying of the hips, the tips of his fingers brushing against the tops of his thighs and his teeth digging into the pillow of his red bottom lip). 

“How much?” The voice is gruff and low and it makes Harry shiver. He can tell the male inside of the flashy car is older (much older) and it makes Harry buzz in anticipation because he really likes the way older men hold him - like a doll, but so ready to wreck him and bruise him until it’s on the right side of hurting. 

“Two-fifty for a hour” Harry supplies and the words roll off his tongue easily, and really, it should by now. He leans down to catch a glimpse of the driver but it’s too dark so he only gets the silhouette of the man’s stubble and sharp jawline. Perfect, he thinks. Stubble always scratches his rosy skin. 

The man nods and for a second, Harry feels his heart sink. What if he isn’t... sexy enough? Should he have swayed his hips more? Outlined his eyes with black kohl liner a bit less? Should he have wore less? More? But before Harry can dwell on any of the questions hissing in his mind or allow it to show on his face, the man is beckoning Harry with a finger and nodding towards the other side of the car. 

“Get in.”

Harry grins and hurries over. 

-

 

The hotel room door has barely closed when the man- Ben, Ben is his name if the name on his credit card is anything to go by as they booked into the hotel, has his rough lips on Harry’s neck and his large hands (oh fuck, they’re so big) are clamping down onto Harry’s smooth hips. Harry releases out a long moan as he feels the curve of Ben’s cock against the swell of his ass. The older man’s hand sneaks around to grope at Harry’s hardening cock and Harry whimpers, pushing back into the touch, his eyelashes fluttering. 

“Bet you’re a slut of a bottom, aren’t you?” Ben growls and Harry summons just enough energy to give a short nod, his cheeks flushed with arousal. He can feel Ben’s smirk against Harry’s neck and the younger boy pushes his ass back against Ben’s crotch so that the older man groans and tightens his palm over Harry’s jean-clad cock. 

“You wanna be fucked?” Ben breathes and bites down on the curve of Harry’s earlobe. 

“Yeah,” Harry breathes, brain kicking into gear. Play it right, Harry, play it right. “wanna be ruined by your fat cock.”

Ben grinds up against Harry’s ass and yanks down the material of Harry’s jeans until his bottom half is bare, the littering of bruises that decorate the tops and backs of his pale thighs shining in the light of the large chandelier. Ben lets out a low whistle of, “whore”.

It should make Harry feel like a whore and like he’s being used and abused but it doesn’t. It makes him feel fucking important. Not like he feels at home or at school or anywhere else where he delves himself into existence. 

Ben bends Harry over the edge of the plush bed and Harry spreads his thighs on instinct, exposing the pinkness of his aching hole. He hears Ben curse under his breath and grip the back of Harry’s thighs in his large hands and Harry bites down hard on his bottom lip to keep his sounds down. He knows not to be too loud, to just pleasure the man in question and not worry or even think about his own needs; unless he’s asked to, and then he screams and moans until his throat is hoarse and achey. 

Ben seems quite content with Harry being quiet though (he’s one of the selfish, all-taking-and-no-giving ones and that’s okay) as he lines his lubed up cock against his entrance. Harry barely recognises when the men get Harry loose and ready anymore, he’s always just so far gone, trying to focus on being perfect, standing perfect, moaning perfect, whispering perfect, perfect perfect perfect. 

As Ben enters him, Harry feels his fingers clench madly in the crisp white sheets of the bed and his breath whoosh out of his lungs as he feels the burning stretch of Ben’s hard cock slide inside of him. He’s not the biggest he’s had (he’s done double before) but it’s still a change from his recent customers, if he’s honest. 

“You’re such a whore, taking my cock,” Ben growls in Harry’s ear as he fucks him hard into the mattress, and Harry’s precum smears onto the sheets and his stomach as he is moved further up the bed with each hard thrust that makes him moan brokenly into the sheets.

Harry likes sex. He likes this, he likes being used, loves being used by older men that smell like brandy and wood, with hands as rough as sandpaper and stubble that scratches his pale skin until it looks like he’s been dragging his nails up and down the skin repeatedly. 

When he feels Ben’s rhythm falter and stutter as the older man feels the climax reach upon him, Harry grins softly and tugs on his own cock as he bites down into his bottom lip.

“C’mon,” he rasps. “wreck my hole”.

And then they’re both gone as they come one after the other and Ben slumps on top of him, pressing Harry further down into the bed and further down into the mess of come that he’s left splattered across the white sheets.

“Fucking whore” Ben rasps.

And that’s what Harry is. He grabs the money out of Ben’s wallet and tugs his jeans back up after cleaning himself down, and leaves the room with flush on his cheeks and a slight limp to his walk. Ben sleeps soundly in the bed behind him.

-  
“Haz! Haz, Haz, Haz, Haz!” Niall has been chattering away for the past twenty minutes and if he’s honest with himself, Harry really hasn’t been listening but with Niall jabbing his thigh, maybe it’s time to pay attention to his best friend.

Harry rolls his head to the right and looks at Niall with a patient smile. “Yes, love of my life?” he teases.

If it were anyone else, they’d probably frown and think of Harry as weird or worse.. gay. But this is Niall Horan, and he’s most definitely the one person that Harry can count on that won’t think anything about sexualities or genders because “people are people, innit, H?”. It’s nice. Not nice enough to tell Niall his secret but still, nice. 

Niall laughs loudly (is there any other way for Niall Horan to laugh?) and he pats Harry’s thigh, licking his lips before he continues on. “There’s a new flock of people moving here today, Harry!” Niall informs him as if it’s a life changing cure for cancer or depression. 

But Harry humours him, schooling his expression into one of shock and excitement, his dimpled grin huge. “Why, Niall! That’s wonderful! Whatever shall I do with this brand new information!”

Niall is oblivious as he often is and nods enthusiastically, bouncing in his chair like a small, excitable child - which Niall often is. “I know right! You won’t be the new kid anymore! I mean, you’ve been here, like, a week so you’re still technically new mate, but still. Do you think the birds will be fit?”

“Niall, what did I tell you about taking interest in actual girls instead of animals? Beastiality isn’t very becoming of a strapping young lad of yourself.” Harry retorts dryly, making Niall cackle away, yet again oblivious to the odd looks he receives from the other people in their home room. 

“You’re fair funny, H!”

Harry hums softly and nods, licking his lips. “I know. Thank you.”

Harry shifts in his seat and has to quickly bite back a gasp as heat spreads through his lower half, the pain and soreness from last night finally taking a toll on his body but before Niall can notice his sharp intake of breath, the bell rings and Harry quickly stands up, tugging on Niall’s arm to distract him.

“Come on loser, we have class,” he says.

“I’m not a loser!” Niall whines and Harry thanks God (the stupid bastard) that his best friend is really quite oblivious when he needs him to be as they walk through the large crowd in the hallway to get to English. 

Harry hates the people in his school and maybe he shouldn’t let himself think that way, considering that is probably what has made his mother move him to a new school for the third time in a year and due to the fact that he has only been at this school for just over a week, he really doesn’t know any of them well enough to judge them the way he has. But, the thing is, they’re all the fucking same. They’re all the same and Harry wants to scream. It doesn’t matter what school you go to, what year of school you’re in, because in the end there’s always going to be the quiet kid (Zayn Malik), the preppy head girl (Eleanor Calder), the bully (Stanley Lucas), the nerd (Jade Thirlwall) and always, always the outsider who barely has any friends (Harry Styles). And they all think they’re all so fucking original, so new age, and Harry wants to punch them.

But violence isn’t the answer so he lets middle aged men fuck it out of him instead of acting upon his hatred for the idiots in the school.

Him and Niall make for their seats at the back corner of the room where two desks have been crudely drawn on, which should put them off, but it’s theirs so they don’t really give a flying fuck. Niall gets the one leaning against the wall so that he can discreetly doze off if they teacher is boring him and Harry gets the aisle seat so that he has more room for his gangly limb. It’s their predicament. 

Students filter in slowly, buzzing with youth and excited chatter which bothers Harry. It’s a fucking Monday. Mondays are the worst and he has no idea wh- Oh.

Oh, oh, oh, repeats clearly as Harry sets his eyes on the man that walks in and steps in front of the teacher’s desk and yes yes yes, please. Please let that be their teacher, please. Old and tired Mr. Harrow really wasn’t cutting it anymore. Besides, this man is so sexy. His eyes are bright blue, eyelashes long and casting shadows over his sculpted cheekbones and his thin lips are a pretty shade of pink. He has stubble, fuck yes. Harry likes stubble, that’s for sure. His hair is spiked up into a beautiful quiff that Harry would very much like to ruin, if he’s honest. And his hands, shit. They’re veiny and even from the back of the room, they just look so strong and capable. Harry bites back a whine. 

“Morning, class,” the man says and Harry wants him to bend him over the desk. His voice is rough yet light, Yorkshire flitting into the accent easily and fuck. 

The girls turn to attention, their eyes bright and the boys scan over the man as if he is their fucking competition, like, please. There is no competition between this sex god of a man and a douchebag of a boy with greasy hair. 

Niall bellows out an “Y’alright, son?” from the back and people laugh. Harry keeps quiet, his hands laced in front of his mouth as his eyes rake up and down the fine specimen of a man. 

The man rolls his eyes and smirks, licking his thin lips and Harry wants to do that. “Mr. Horan. Nice to meet you. So due to the fact that Mr. Harrow is very ill, I’ve decided to step in and teach your English literature class. My name is Mr. Tomlinson and I expect you to actually work hard instead of chewing gum and playing with your hair, Miss. Calder.” 

Eleanor blushes and Harry can’t help but grin from behind his hands. He’s very very impressed.

“Any questions?”

Harry’s hand shoots up and Mr. Tomlinson’s eyebrows raise slightly. Harry wonders what his orgasm face is like. “Yes, Mr. Styles?”

Harry should not glow like the sun under Mr. Tomlinson saying his name like that but he can feel his body heat up under his gaze. But it doesn’t put him off the task. “How old are you, Sir?”

Mr. Tomlinson smiles. “Twenty-eight, Mr. Styles.”

Harry grins and nods, ducking his head to doodle on the desk. Whilst Mr. Tomlinson carries on with his introduction, Harry can’t keep the smirk off his face. He is so gonna suck Mr. Tomlinson’s cock by Wednesday. 

\- 

It gets to Thursday and Harry’s mouth still hasn’t gotten any closer to his teacher’s cock. He’s having a bad week. Niall keeps teasing him about how “fuckin’ desperate” he is for his teacher’s cock but Harry really can’t fight against that accusation so Harry keeps his mouth shut and smiles politely with a glint in his eyes as he takes a sip of his crappy hot chocolate from the dinner halls. 

\- 

On the weekends, Harry ditches the whole being-a-hooker-for-older-men thing and instead takes up stripping at a seedy bar down in the slap middle of the city. It’s in plain sight enough that if anyone had their suspicions, they really wouldn’t go looking for Harry in there. It’s perfect and the club is owned by a nice, attractive woman named Caroline who makes sure that all her dancers are taken care of with minimal grabbing from the customers. Besides, Harry is Caroline’s favourite because of his baby face and innocent aura so there’s that, too. 

The weekend shifts are easy for him because he can always bluff to his mother that he’s staying over at Niall’s to study or to just hang out and she’ll believe him easily enough, so he always has the option of getting in the long shifts on a Friday and Saturday night. Harry can’t do that shit through the week because his mother will get suspicious and demand that he stay home. Which is not an option. Luckily, his customers through the week are often done with him within the hour so he’s usually home for curfew and if he isn’t then, he’s sneaky about it and his mother is too busy with thumbing through old photo albums to really give a fuck. 

“Taz!” Caroline shouts out Harry’s stage name and for a second he doesn’t quite click with the connection before he scrambles to his feet and appears in front of his boss quickly. 

“Boss?” he chirps innocently and Caroline grins softly down at him. 

“I’ve got a newbie in the private room for you, sweetcheeks,” she cooes and pinches his cheek tightly, making blood rush up to the top of Harry’s cheeks. Her eyes flick down over the minimal clothing he’s got on - only a pair of tight denim shorts that hug his thighs and ass - and she smiles in approval, patting his red cheek before he runs off, obedient. 

When Harry gets to the private room, located in the far back of the building, Harry’s eyes widen for a second before a shit eating grin flickers across his lips because, fuck. Mr. Tomlinson is stood there, nervous by the far wall, his fingers tapping on the arm of one of the chairs set out for him. He’s a contrast to Harry - stubbled, strong and mostly covered up in dark jeans and a purple shirt with a blazer hung on his shoulders. Harry wants him, but what else is new?

Harry moves further into the room and closes the door with the heel of his foot on his way into the room, which catches Louis’ attention. Harry can’t stop the smirk from spreading across his face at his teacher’s shocked expression. 

“Hi, Sir,” Harry chirps, holding his hands together behind his back. 

Louis’ mouth drops open before he forcibly shuts it close, sinking slowly down into the armchair that is adjacent to where he was stood. It doesn’t seem like Harry’s teacher is going to say anything else to he slinks over to stand in front of the older man, a wicked smile on his lips.

“How may I help you, Sir?”

“Do your parents know you do this?” is the first thing that Louis asks, baffled, his eyes widening as he scans down over Harry’s lack of clothing and if his defenses weren’t rising up from the question then he would probably be smug about the fact that Louis’ eyes darken slightly but with the circumstances, his sex drive isn’t as high as it would be at this point. 

Harry snorts and squeezes his hands behind his back, linking his fingers together and his white teeth digging into the cushion of his bottom lip. “My mother knows nothing and will know nothing about this, okay? This has nothing to do with her.” Harry spits and presses his lips together in defiance. He refuses to be lectured especially by his hot teacher that obviously views himself as superior all because he isn’t the one on the streets looking for a cock in his mouth. 

Louis makes a soft sound at the back of his throat. “She doesn’t know you’re - you’re a - a.. what, a prostitute? A stripper? You don’t think she should /know/?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “You say it like it’s a bad thing, fucking hell,” he groans and licks his lips, leaning up on his tip toes. “It’s exciting, don’t you think? To have strange men press you down into a mattress and bruise you until it hurts.. to fill your mouth with cock until there’s tears on your cheeks, Mr. Tomlinson? It’s fun.”

Harry pulls back and smirks when he sees the way his teacher is breathing a bit heavier than before. He slides down to the floor, kneeling in front of the older man with his eyes locked on his teacher’s and he notices with satisfaction when Louis flushes delicately, his fingers digging into the inside of his thigh. Harry wants to play.

Harry spreads his legs slightly, his tongue flicking over to wet his bottom lip as he edges closer towards Louis with his head slightly tilted to the side. “So, Sir,” he murmurs as he runs his fingertips along the inside of Louis’ wrist. “Why are /you/ here? Is your boyfriend not doing it for you anymore, hm?” he hums. 

Stammering for a second, Louis finally chokes out a soft, “No boyfriend,” and Harry grins, moving to climb into Louis’ lap. “So there’s nothing stopping me from doing this?” he asks before he surges forward and presses his lips to Louis’, quickly licking into Louis’ mouth. Shock rushes through Louis’ body, making it near enough impossible to push his student away, and his hands come up to squeeze at Harry’s hips which makes the younger boy whine and grind filthily down onto Louis’ lap. It’s only when Harry’s hands are inching down to Louis’ waistband of his jeans, deftly unbuttoning them and trying to tug them down that Louis snaps out of it, pushing Harry away with a firm grip on his hips and panting heavily.

“Harry.” he chokes out and Harry raises an eyebrow at him, confused. 

Harry puts his hands on Louis’ chest and bites his lip, his full lips bright pink and almost glowing underneath the shitty lighting of the private room. “What’s wrong /now/, Tomlinson?” Harry asks.

Blushing, clears his throat and licks his lips nervously. “I- I’m your /teacher/, Harry. This... this really, /really/ can’t happen, okay?” He searches Harry’s face with his blue eyes but keeps a firm grip still on Harry’s hips so that he can’t move or run away from him because Harry... fascinates him. “Let’s just... talk,” he offers. 

Harry snorts and crosses his arms across his bare chest, chewing on his pouty bottom lip as he stares back at Louis with conviction. “Talk? Talk about /what/? The fact that you’ve got a hard cock inside of your jeans but you won’t let me suck you off, Sir?” Harry’s speech is so dirty but his tone is rather innocent and quiet and it knocks Louis back a little.

The older man clears his throat and runs his fingers through his hair, watching Harry attentively. “How about the fact that you’re, what, 16? And you’re... /stripping/, Harry? That’s it, right?”

If only he knew. Harry smiles sweetly and shrugs, running patterns using his fingertips along the insides of Louis’ wrists as he purses his lips. “On the weekends, yes,” he allows. 

Louis frowns and nods, contemplating Harry’s answer. “Okay...” he murmurs slowly. “And... the rest of the week? Do you sell your body for sex, as well?” Louis’ tone is half joking but when Harry stares back at him, no hint of amusement on his face, Louis nearly chokes. “You’re a prostitute as well?” he asks, exasperated. 

Harry rolls his eyes. “I like sex,” he explains simply, subconsciously beginning to unbutton his teacher’s shirt with his hands but Louis quickly stops him, his hands wrapping around Harry’s wrists to stop him.

“You’re /sixteen/!”

“Nearly seventeen.”

Louis groans and rests his forehead against the junction between Harry’s throat and his shoulder. He stays there for a few minutes and Harry stays still, his heart racing with.. something. The younger boy quickly squashes it down and pushes his teacher away firmly, looking him straight in the eyes. “You /can’t/ tell anyone,” he says and Louis sighs out loudly. Harry hates that sigh. It’s the same sigh that he hears from adults repeatedly when he’s put /them/ in a tough position or when he’s done something wrong and Harry fucking detests it. 

When Louis makes no move to say anything else, Harry slaps his shoulder and makes his teacher look at him. “Promise me!” he whines, eyes desperate. It makes Louis a little breathless and he almost doesn’t say anything else.

“Harry..”

“Fucking promise me or I’ll... tell my mother about your advances towards me,” Harry rushes out and it’s too late to go back now so he sticks his ground. He almost feels bad for the look of shock on his teacher’s face but this is /his/ life. 

“/What/ advances? This is... blackmail, Harry!” Louis spurts out indignantly. 

Harry presses his lips together and takes his hands out of his teacher’s grip, ghosting his lips over the older man’s lips. “Please,” he breathes out innocently, his desperation leaking into his voice. He /needs/ this. This is all he has. He nips gently at the older man’s bottom lip as he leans more into the kiss, and relief rushes through him like a car through a puddle when his teacher responds to the kiss, tugging him harder into the kiss. The couple moan at the same time, and Harry tightens his thighs around the older man’s hips as he murmurs small “please”s into the kiss and sucks on the tip of his tongue. 

Finally, Louis breathes out, “fine” and Harry almost doesn’t hear it, and he just continues begging in a small voice as they kiss. But the older man takes control of the situation and pulls away, looking into Harry’s eyes as he repeats, “fine,” between the two of them “I promise.”

Harry grins and kisses his teacher again, mumbling a thank you to the corner of his mouth. “I’ll be real good for you, Sir, I promise, you can fuck me whenever you want,” he whispered and Louis stills.

“Harry, that’s not really nec-” he begins before Harry cuts him off again. 

“Don’t you want me?”

And honestly. Louis wants to fucking laugh because he highly doubts that if he didn’t want Harry, then his cock wouldn’t be lying snugly against his thigh with arousal. He nods silently.

Harry shrugs as if there’s nothing more to say, but before he gets off of his teacher’s lap, he stills and looks at him curiously. “What’s your name? Your /real/ name? I like having something to shout out when I’m being fucked from behind,” he says calmly.

“Louis,” the older man breathes, fascinated, fucking /fascinated/ by the curveball in his lap and Harry nods, running his thumb over Louis’ adam apple.

“Louis,” he murmurs as he stands up and sinks to his knees with a grin. “I’m gonna give you the blowjob of your life, Louis,”

Louis groans loudly. This boy is going to fucking wreck him. 

-

Harry absolutely hates Thursdays. His classes are shitty, the people in his classes tend to have bigger asshole tendencies than usual due to the weekend quickly approaching and his customers aren’t often that frequent because they’re too busy with their wives. So yes, Harry definitely hates Thursdays.

He also really hates it when the athletes try and chat him up in between classes as he’s trying to squeeze into the next class room he needs to be in. They’re grabby and leering and they think they’re better than him in every way. Picking on the obviously gay kid in the corridor is apparently hilarious, and Harry really doesn’t have time for that today. He has English class next and Louis... Louis. The thought brings a smirk to his lips but it’s quickly swiped off his face when Tristan grabs his arms and pushes him into the wall of the corridor with a cruel smile.

“Hey, wanna suck my cock, pretty boy?” he laughs and Harry can see the glow of satisfaction on his face when the rest of the dumb assholes laugh loudly behind him. 

“Fuck off,” Harry spits, trying to move away with a growl when Tristan’s grip intensifies on Harry’s arms. Harry refuses to show any pain in his expression and he presses his lips together as he stands up straighter with defiance, staring back at the taller boy coldly.

“Come on, baby,” Tristan teases. “We all know you would be lucky to be on your knees for me, don’t we?”

Harry shakes his head and he wants to punch him, he wants to fucking ruin his stupid face and rip out his obnoxiously dyed blonde hair until Tristan is on his knees and crying. But that’s incredibly impossible right now when Tristan is twisting his wrist slightly until it’s hurting yet Harry is good, he keeps his mouth shut to hide his pained whimpers. 

Darkness clouds over Tristan’s expression when Harry says nothing and he edges in closer until his stupid breath is fanning over Harry’s flushed face and a horrible feeling rolls through his stomach like a tidal wave. He’s seen this situation way too many times to count with past clients but it’s never been like this. With clients, Harry is prepared, dressed in his attire which always puts him in the right frame of mind so that he can deal with situations like these. Except, he’s not got that factor to hide behind right now, not when he’s dressed in ratted converses and his Ramones shirt, books in his backpack weighing him down slightly. 

“Gentlemen. Do we have a problem here?” Louis’ sharp voice snaps Harry out of his reverie and the young boy jerks his head up, relief flooding through him when Louis strides towards them. His face is guarded but Harry can see.. something else in Louis’ eyes as he moves closer to the group. Slowly, the leering athletes disappear with a mumbled curse and a tug to each other’s arms and finally, Tristan reluctantly releases Harry’s wrist and blanches at Louis’ expression, stepping back cautiously.

“No problem, Sir,” Tristan says with confidence and Harry ducks his head with the glare that the athlete shoots to him. Shame hangs his head because /fuck/ he should be able to handle himself better than this, instead of waiting for his teacher to fucking save him.

Yet, as Harry glances up as watches Louis order Tristan to “leave, right now, Mr. Cormell. If I see you trouble Mr. Styles again, we may have a problem, understood?”, Harry can’t help a flood of gratitude and happiness because someone is looking after him and actually gives a shit about him. Once it’s only Harry and Louis left in the corridor, Harry flicks his gaze up and watches Louis giving Harry a onceover in concern and he clears his throat to distract himself.

He doesn’t deserve to be looked after.

“Are you okay?” Louis murmurs and flicks his eyes up the corridor. “C’mon, I’ll walk you to class.”

Harry nods and hitches his backpack strap up higher on his shoulder as he walks in silence with Louis, his eyes fixated on Louis’ hand which hangs by his hip. Louis has really pretty fingers. 

“Harry?”

Shit, yeah.

“I’m okay, really, I am,” Harry smiles quickly and bites his lip. “Just... a bit of trouble with some idiots, is all, Lou.” The nickkname slips out before he can stop himself but he can’t help it and quickly covers it up with a cough and a grin. “So, Sir,” he begins and smirks softly to himself when Louis looks down at Harry with amusement. “You gonna give me a good lesson today? Give me something worthwhile?” he teases and watches in delight when Louis flushes and stops in the corridor, a few doors away from where they should be.

Harry frowns but stays silent and watches as Louis digs around in his pocket, before he fishes out a key and puts it into Harry’s open palm. Louis closes Harry’s fingers over the key and licks his lips. 

“What is this?” Harry asks.

Louis clears his throat and rubs his hand on the back of his neck; Harry hasn’t seen him this nervous since the weekend when Harry was begging him to stay quiet about his extra curricular activities. 

“It’s my key. /Your/ key,” Louis amends. “To my office. You can... you can use it whenever you want, you know? Just.. I don’t know, it’s stupid.”

Harry looks over at Louis and smirks, leaning closer into Louis as he smooths the key into his jean pocket. “You wanna fuck me in your office?” he murmurs and giggles when Louis chokes on air a little.

“Ah.. not right now. I have John Steinbeck to teach you but ah... another time?”

“Another time,” Harry confirms and strides ahead with a skip in his step towards the classroom, leaving Louis behind in his wake with a flushed expression on his face. 

Harry slides into the back of the room with a smirk on his face and he leans into Niall with a shit eating grin on his face which only grows when Louis enters the room with slightly flushed cheeks. 

The lesson is slow but Harry loves every part of it because Louis can’t keep his eyes off of him. 

 

-

The “another time” that Harry and Louis had talked about later comes on a Wednesday afternoon. Most of the staff have gone home and the students are long gone, only leaving Harry and Louis in the left centred section of the building. Louis knows that the cleaners don’t come until a few hours later and he’s had this scenario playing in his mind for the past week so he can’t help the way his hands tighten on his thighs as he stares back at Harry, who is taking his time on looking around the room. 

Harry slides on top of one of the tables and scans his eyes around Louis’ office, assessing the size and colour scheme of it all. He likes interiors of rooms that he’s never been in before. Especially walls, and maybe that’s because it’s where his eyes often land when he’s being fucked by strangers but that’s neither here nor there.

Louis is stood by the door, one hand behind his back and the other scratching at the stubble on his jaw as he watches Harry contemplatively. It’s silent, comfortable, for a good few minutes before Louis speaks up.

“I want to fuck you on that table.”

It’s blunt and so much unlike how he usually is and maybe Harry is loosening up the stern man, undoing the knots in his stressed posterior. The notion sets a rolling wave of pride through Harry’s body but as he looks at Louis, his breath catching in his throat as Louis walks slowly over him before he places his rough hands on Harry’s thighs, Harry is suddenly breathless and shy. 

“What?” he whispers.

Leaning further forward, Louis licks his thin lips and squeezes Harry’s thighs gently in his hands to make the student gasp. He does gasp and yes, Louis is in control. 

“I want to fuck you right on this table,” he murmurs slowly. “I want to wreck you right here. Oh Harry, imagine how hot it would be if someone walked in on us, whilst I’m pounding into your pretty arse? Bet you love that, don’t you? Being on show for everyone so that they can see you come like the good boy are. Hm? Is that what you want?”

Wrapping his fingers around the edge of the wooden table, Harry can feel how heavy his breathing has become as he stares back at his teacher with glassy, pleading eyes and his chest rising and falling underneath his thin white shirt. The thing is, Louis is so on point, it’s scary. Harry has a thing for being watched, has gotten off for a client harder than he thought he would’ve just because he fucked him in front of a mirror. 

Louis digs his fingertips tighter into the insides of Harry’s thighs and,- /fuck/. “Talk to me, princess,” he purrs. “Do you want that?”

Harry whimpers before wrapping both hands around the back of his teacher’s neck to crash their lips together with a loud whine, nipping at Louis’ bottom lip hungrily. “/Please/, Mr. Tomlinson,” he panted. “Want you to fuck me like the naughty boy I am.”

Louis growls and Harry’s cock jumps inside of his boxers, eager to be touched and to be wrecked until he’s unable to remember his own name. 

“Undress yourself,” he ordered and stood back, palming his own cock through his slacks as he watched Louis darkly. “/Now/”

Fumbling quickly with the buttons on his shirt, Harry shrugs the fabric off his shoulders, letting it pool to the floor and he hisses gently as the cool air clung to his hard nipples. Louis whistles lowly and bites his lip as he squeezes his cock in his hand. “Such pretty nipples, baby,” he murmurs and nods, signalling for Harry to continue.

The younger boy shivers gently underneath the command and nods, shimmying his shorts and boxers down his thighs and kicking them off his ankles until he’s bare and needy, his cock heavy against his stomach and his lips parted as he pants. Louis is still fully dressed, his pupils dilated and hand steady on his clothed cock. Harry leans back on his elbows and looks up at Louis from under his eyelashes, exposing himself with a gently whine as he spreads his thighs, his legs dangling off the edges of the wooden table. “Sir,” he murmurs. “please”.

Louis hums, passing his tongue over his lips as he steps forward in between Harry’s thighs. He drops his hand from his bulge in his slacks to tug on Harry’s hand until he’s sat up and Louis marvels at how fucking sexy Harry looks as he peers up at Louis from under his eyelashes, his perky nipples pressed to the dark fabric of Louis’ shirt. The older man cupped Harry’s jaw with his hand and rubbed his thumb over the swell of Harry’s bottom lip.

“Oh baby,” he cooes. “look how /vulnerable/ you are, all bare for me. My pretty, pretty boy.” Harry preens gently under the attention, his eyelashes fluttering. “Unbutton my shirt,” he demands, taking control again and watches with satisfaction with how affected Harry is underneath the attention. 

Nodding eagerly, Harry slides his hands up Louis’ body to unbutton his teacher’s shirt with his teeth digging into the pillow of his bottom lip. He lets the fabric separate so that Louis’ stomach and chest is exposed, his chest tattoo standing boldly against his tanned skin and he is honestly the most attractive man that Harry has ever come into contact with. His hand drifts down to squeeze Louis’ hard cock through his slacks, his breath hitching at the size of it before he tugs at Louis’ slacks, pushing them down his strong thighs. Louis’ cock curves up against his stomach and Harry’s mouth dries.

Snapping out of his lust-ridden trance, Louis grabs Harry’s wrists in his hands and smirks secretly to himself from how Harry’s breath hitches in his throat again. Interesting. 

“Lay back darling,” he purrs. “I’m gonna open you up now”

Harry looks like he’s about to comply before he shakes his head, tugging at the hem of Louis’ shirt. “N-no,” he whimpers. “Need you in me, now. I’m stretched, I am... I- I touched myself in your office instead of going to gym-” he cuts himself off, scared that Louis will suddenly be mad at him. He was only supposed to use that key for emergencies.

And for a fleeting moment, Harry really thinks that Louis will be mad, that he’s going to hit him or something worse but then Louis lets out a low groan and squeezes Harry’s thighs hard enough to bruise. Which is good, so so good, because Harry lives to be bruised. 

Louis leans down to press their bodies together, his hands braced next to his student’s head and the head of his cock pressing against Harry’s fluttering hole. He presses their lips together in a harsh kiss, mumbling softly about how dirty Harry is until Harry is whining from the teasing because why won’t Louis fucking /move/?!

“S-Sir, /please/,” he begs. “I’m good, I’m good, I need fucked, /please/. Want you to see nothing but me on my back for you whenever you have meetings with other staff in here, fuck,” he mumbles as he watches Louis slide on a condom onto his impressive length, his eyelashes fluttering with the shower of arousal pushing down onto him and the boy’s voice dying out as Louis finally pushes into Harry with a low moan and a grab of Harry’s curls. 

“Dirty boy,” he breathes as he snaps his hips to fuck into Harry at a harsh pace that has Harry crying out and grabbing onto Louis’ biceps with a loud whine. Louis pounds into Harry fast and hard with one hand on the back of Harry’s neck to keep their mouths close so that he can swallow each and every one of his student’s sounds whilst his other hand is wrapped around one of Harry’s thighs, spreading it out so that he could hit Harry’s prostate at an angle. 

It’s the adrenaline, the risk of getting caught by one of the cleaners or one of the teachers that tend to stay very late to catch up on marking that has Louis panting into Harry’s mouth as he pounds into Harry. And it fuels his urge to fuck Harry better, to make him moan louder, to bruise him harder as if it will create an aura around him that will scream, “mine”. 

Harry comes with a muffled cry against the crook of Louis’ neck when Louis thrusts one last time against his prostate, his body going lax in Louis’ embrace and Louis soon follows with a soft grunt, his teeth digging into the flesh of Harry’s bottom lip to quieten himself as he empties himself into the condom. 

The pair stay like that for minutes as they breath harshly into each other’s flushed skin until Harry is whining and mumbling for Louis to “get out”. Louis hides his disappointment and nods, sliding out of Harry carefully before tying the condom and throwing it in the nearby bin. 

He runs a rough hand through his hair and pulls his slacks back up his thighs, tucking his shirt into his slacks but still unable to keep his eyes off of Harry who is slow at dressing himself, as if in a trance.

Finally, Harry looks up and smirks at his teacher, pulling him in for a hard kiss before stepping away and leaving the room with flushed cheeks and a chirpy, “see you tomorrow, Sir!”.

Louis slides down into an armchair and puts his head in his hands. He’s so very fucked, in more way than one. 

-

“Lou, this place is so /cute!” Harry giggles from the doorway of the kitchen, peeking at Louis with a wide, youthful grin. Louis wonders how Harry had even persuaded him to allow him up to his flat but when Louis takes his eyes off the pan of rice to look at Harry and he sees the dimples indenting his cheeks, Louis really can’t find a reason to /not/ have him there. 

“Thank you,” Louis says with a small smile and turns the hob off, pouring the rice onto their plates before loading up individual pieces of chicken breast on top of the rice, setting the cutlery down on the table in his kitchen and beckoning Harry over with a crook of his finger. Harry smirks and steps into the kitchen, his feet bare as he sits cross legged on one of the three chairs that Louis has around his round kitchen table. 

Harry immediately digs in with a happy hum at the back of his throat and Louis shakes his head in both disbelief and nostalgia because he remembers having the teenage stamina to only focus on one thing at a time, and for that one thing to usually either be his cock or his meals. 

They eat in comfortable silence and Louis ignores how /easy/ all of this is. When Louis is left with only a chunk of his chicken breast to push around his small plate, Harry’s hand begins to wander up and down Louis’ thigh. Louis nearly drops his fork when Harry cups Louis’ crotch in his hand with a grin.

“Harry!” he flusters. 

Harry blinks back at the older man with patience, innocence drifting in his green eyes. “Yes, Sir?” he asks sweetly as he pushes at Louis’ chair with his foot so that it’s easier for him to climb into Louis’ lap and cage him in with his thighs. Louis blushes, bringing his hands to easily hold Harry by his hips. The older man is quiet, breathing out softly as he stares up in awe at the younger boy until Harry grinds down purposefully and Louis lets out a loud moan before he can stop himself. 

With a grin, Harry brushes his hands down over Louis’ chest and bites down onto his bottom lip with a gentle hum. “Do you wanna fuck me or not, then?” he says nonchalantly. 

Shit, fuck. 

Louis nods wordlessly and Harry grins in satisfaction, jumping up and tugging on Louis’ hand. “Let’s go christen the bed, then!” he says excitedly and Louis can barely keep up with how his mind works but he nods again, leading Harry to his bedroom.

He thanks his stars that he remembered to clean his room that morning when Harry slinks down onto the edge of Louis’ bed, spreading his thighs as he tugs at Louis’ hands until Harry is framing Louis with his thighs again. The only difference is that Louis’ breathing is a bit more laboured and Harry is at a lower level, his face close to Louis’ crotch. 

“Want you to wreck me on this bed so that every time you go into this room, all you can see is me on my hands and knees for you,” Harry mumbles as he mouths at Louis’ cock over his underwear and Louis whimpers, threading his fingers through Harry’s curls.

“Shit,” he breathes. 

Harry sucks Louis off and Louis can’t keep his eyes off how stretched and obscenely red Harry’s lips look around his cock. He even feels a sense of pride when tears leak from the corners of Harry’s eyes when Louis comes down his throat. Harry lets Louis open him up, his legs spread out as far as he can with one hand playing with his pink nipples and Louis can’t keep his lips off of Harry’s hip chub, marking the pale skin with his teeth and tongue. Once Harry is flushed and rambling out obscene pleas, Louis finally takes pity on his throbbing cock and the whining boy beneath and fucks him from behind, one hand on Harry’s hip and the other forcing his head down so that Harry’s back is arched, a delicious view for Louis to gaze upon as he pounds into the younger boy. Harry is /loud/, much louder than usual and maybe it’s due to the more private room that they’re in, but Louis really likes the way that his name falls from Harry’s mouth as he pants heavily into the white bedsheets. Louis is pushing at the brink of his orgasm when he pulls out (much to Harry’s dismay) and comes all over Harry’s ass, watching it drip down Harry’s crack and down his pale thighs. 

It’s good, extremely good, and Louis can’t help but laugh when Harry turns over onto his back with a dopey smile on his lips and a red tint to his cheeks. 

They clean each other up with sloppy kisses to each other’s skin and Louis moans when Harry cleans up Louis’ cock with his tongue. Then, Harry is leaving with a dopey grin and a mumble of “I promise I’ll do my homework now, Sir. Maybe,” against Louis’ ear as the older man lounges back against his pillows.

Louis rolls his eyes and falls asleep, wondering how this is now his life. 

 

-

Louis invites Harry back to his flat the next week.

Harry's lips are hot and determined on Louis' neck, and it's really no wonder that the older boy can barely see straight. Harry's lips are perfect; full and pink and sweet and soft and Louis' pretty sure that they're the best thing to ever happen to him. (His boy aside). And as Harry's lips drag along his pulse point to make Louis gasp and his head roll back slightly, it's easy to feel the shape of the smirk that is painted across Harry's lips. It's nice and Louis has to whine, shoving at Harry's shoulder to connect their lips together properly. 

They're both naked, (Harry's suggestion) and writhing against Louis' desk in his locked office with pants and high keens lost in the air. 

"Turn around," Louis demands in a gruff voice and Harry quickly complies, turning around and bending over the desk with his pert sixteen year old ass sticking out in the most delicious way. Louis fights a groan as he lubes himself up, biting back a moan as he moves his hand over his leaking cock. 

Louis shuffles forward and is about to press into Harry's heat when a mobile goes off. They both freeze, the head of Louis' cock catching on Harry's rim and Harry's eyes widening as he realizes who is calling him. 

"It's - it's my mum," he gasps out. 

"Don't answer it."

But he does. Of course he does. Answering with a high, "hi, mum!" Harry smirks at Louis from over his shoulder. Alas, Louis can't have that. As Harry rambles on about footy practice to his mother with his hole clenching around nothing in Louis' office, Louis places a hand to Harry's spine and watches in amusement as Harry's thighs spread further apart. Harry raises his hips up to tease his teacher and Louis curses a soft "fuck" under his breath. 

Maybe it's the smug look on Harry face or the fact that Louis hasn't done this before or even that Harry looks so fucking /good/ bent over his desk but Louis wants to prove a point. So, with his teeth digging into his bottom lip, Louis presses into Harry with a panting breath and smirks at Harry's gasping reaction. 

Blood flows to Harry's cheeks and he shakes his head, closing his eyes as Louis rocks his hips forward. "N-no, mum, I'm /fine/, honest," he breathes, his head bowed to rest against the desk. "I, um... no, I won't be home for dinner," he pants out. "Got footy then, ah, a detention, I'm sorry. But Mr. Tomlinson wants to teach me a /lesson/."

It's silent apart from Harry's mother rambling on the other line and Louis' harsh breathing in the air as he tries to control himself from slamming into Harry. Finally, Harry breaks it off with a "bye, M-Mum!" before he throws the device to the ground to land on their pile of clothes. 

Leaning down to brush his lips against Harry's ear, Louis chuckles. "Want taught a lesson, Haz?" he moans and Harry nods, pressing his hips back to get Louis in deeper, which makes the older man groan. 

"Yes, sir" he begs. Who is Louis to deny him?

-

Louis walks back into his living room to find Harry, his eyes drooping as he tries to focus on the pages of his new book that is perched on his knees. Louis gently sits down on the sofa, next to Harry, and runs his fingers through Harry’s curls. The older man smiles gently when Harry lets out a delighted, but tired, hum and leans into Louis’ side.

“Haz?”

“Mm.”

“You look tired,” Louis mumbles, scratching Harry’s scalp gently until Harry is a pliant mess of limbs against his side, his nose pressing into the side of Louis’ neck as he breathes out languidly. 

“Mm hm,” Harry says, non-committally. 

Rolling his eyes, Louis places Harry’s book to the side and runs his fingers down Harry’s side. “Do you- I can drive you home if you’d like?”

Harry pouts and gazes up at Louis from under his eyelashes. “Can I stay here? Mum thinks I’m at Niall’s any way. It’s a Thursday.” Of course. It’s Thursday which means Harry would normally be out on the streets, looking for older men, but he’s not, he’s with Louis. Part of Louis sags in relief because he’s got Harry, not some married asshole with sexuality problems whilst another part of Louis tenses up because it’s only a reminder of how many past Thursdays there have been where Harry has been out on the streets. It’s a soothing factor to know that Louis is keeping Harry away from those assholes, though. It’s nice to know that Harry prefers to stay here with Louis. 

Blushing delicately, Louis smiles gently and nods. “Of course, love,” he murmurs and stands up to offer his hand to Harry who gladly takes it with a tired smile and a sloppy kiss to Louis’ neck as Louis drags the young boy into his room, where he undresses the tired boy down to his boxers before pulling the blankets up over his body. Louis follows suit and slides in behind Harry with an arm securely wrapped around Harry’s waist and the couple fall asleep together. 

When Louis wakes up the next morning, he wakes up to a mouthful of Harry’s curls. The older man wrinkles his nose slightly, pulling back to look at Harry and he loses his breath. 

The sunlight has filtered through Louis’ shitty cheap blinds and is bouncing off Harry’s cheekbones and eyelashes, and Harry’s pink lips are parted as he huffs out gentle breaths through his slumber. The younger boy has turned over in his sleep and has both of his hands resting on Louis’ chest (Louis’ hands itch to link their fingers together and to kiss his knuckles) and Harry has somehow slid a leg in between Louis’ thighs throughout his sleep. He looks beautiful, untouchable and Louis wants to protect him from everything and everyone and Louis wants to wake up like this every single morning. 

He’s fucked. Utterly, utterly /fucked/.

-

“Harry?” Louis murmurs in the silence of his bedroom, Harry’s weight against his chest pushing him further into the mattress.

“Mmm?”

“Why do you do it?” Louis asks. His voice is low and quiet in the near silent room, his hand gripping Harry’s hip tightly. Harry is in the post-coital stage after having just been eaten out until he cried before being fucked on his hands and knees so all he can offer Louis is a muted hum, his eyelashes heavy on his cheekbones as he rests his cheek on Louis’ sweaty chest.

It’s dangerous, for Louis, to have them embraced like this. Because it leads to thoughts that will destroy Louis in the end. Thoughts like waking up to Harry every morning and kissing him in the shower and taking him on picnic dates in the summer and getting down on his knee and asking him to- right. Dangerous. Bad thoughts. 

The younger boy flicks his gaze up to look at Louis with a gentle frown on his face. Louis wants to kiss his troubles away but he waits. Harry licks his bottom lip and stills his hand which is currently situated on Louis’ stomach. 

“Do what?”

And fantastic, because he’s going to be difficult and play dumb. Louis hates that; because Harry is beautiful and funny and endearing but he’s so reluctant to talk about anything difficult, especially when it has something to do with his.. “job”. 

Louis sighs and rubs his thumb over Harry’s cheek. “You know what I mean, Haz,” he whispered.

Harry stills and bites his lip. He shakes his head and retracts himself from Louis’ embrace, making the man feel like he’s been punched in the stomach as he watches Harry get up and search for his clothes. 

“I should go,” Harry says.

Shaking his head with uncertainty swirling heavily in the pit of his stomach, Louis sits up until he back is resting against the pillows. “Harry,” he says, his voice loud in the silent room and Harry stills, his back to Louis and his body covered by nothing but his shirt. “Fuck- I just, why do you do it?”

He can see Harry press his lips together even when his back is turned and it kills him how well he knows him. Harry turns and eyes him with a level stare, his arms crossed across his chest.

“I do it because I want to fucking do it, Louis.”

Louis scoffs and runs his hand down his face, cupping his jaw with the palm of his hand as he watches Harry. Minutes pass before Harry seems to give up, and shakes his head, beginning to button up his shirt and reach for his jeans on the floor when Louis says it.

“You make yourself a whore, Harry!”

Time stops. The blood drains from Harry’s face and Louis’ eyes widen once the realisation of what he’s just said sinks in. He opens his mouth to apologise when Harry brings his hand back and slaps him across the face, dirty tears streaming down his perfect face.

“How /dare/ you, Louis Tomlinson! You! Of all people! I didn’t - I get it why other people would assume that about me, but /you/- God! I fucking /knew/, I /knew/ you were judging me with every fucking touch, every fucking kiss, every fucking moment that I spend with you and-” Harry stops as he chokes on his words and shakes his head, wiping his tears away with the palms of his hands furiously. It’s silent, the blood thrumming in Louis’ ears and Harry shakily breathing as he cleaned his face with his hands before he speaks again. But this time it’s much quieter and Louis wants to die. “I didn’t expect it from you.”

“Haz-”

“No! Fuck you! I’m-” Harry shakes his head and is grabbing his phone from the coffee table before he runs out the door, leaving the door to slam after him. Louis feels it in his bones. 

-

Harry fucking hates how hot his teacher is. Because he should be so fucking angry, his blood should be boiling over with annoyance at the mere sight of Louis but.. it isn’t. His breath is instead quickening with excitement at the sight of Louis in tight white trousers and a light blue shirt open at his chest to reveal his tattoos and fuckfuckfuck. This really shouldn’t be legal, right?

That single thought makes Harry laugh softly to himself, because.. yeah. There’s no way that anything between them could be construed as “legal”.

“You alright, Haz?” Niall’s voice interrupts his thoughts and Harry peels his eyes away from the white fabric that clings to his teacher’s thick thighs to look at Niall who is watching him with concern, his milky blue eyes watching him carefully.

Harry plasters a bright grin and nods, pulling Niall in for an one-armed hug with an arm around his shoulder. “‘Course, Niallar!” he laughs it off before he releases his grip on Niall when he feels Louis’ eyes on him, his cheeks flushing.

He frowns to himself as Niall goes back to work - they’re meant to be writing a recreative monologue thing for “Much Ado about Nothing” but fuck if Harry is doing it. He’ll leave that to people like Niall and Kirsty who is rapidly scribbling away in her book - because, shit. Louis isn’t meant to have fucking manipulated him like this to the point where he’s scared of - whatever.   
Whatever. They’re not involved (he’s not even one hundred percent sure that they’re still fucking) so Harry holds no obligations towards the man at all. 

With that in mind, whilst Louis has his head bent down as he marks paper at his desk (Harry ignores how much he wants to sit on that desk and watch Louis choke on his cock as a silent apology for being a prick), Harry turns and leans over to whisper to Ryan Crawford.

Ryan is an insecure gay jock who has barely come out to his parents yet but has fucked at least half the male dominated sports teams so when Harry leans over, his white shirt drooping low to expose his collarbones and chest, of course his eyes light up. He even licks his lips.  
Easy bait.

“Hey, Ry,” Harry whispers, resting his jaw in the palm of his hand as he puts his elbow onto Ryan’s desk for balance. 

Ryan’s eyes flick down to Harry’s pouty mouth as he speaks and Harry lets his lips curve into a gentle, knowing smile as he flutters his eyelashes and places his hand on Ryan’s thigh. He watches in triumph as Ryan’s breath hitches in his throat. 

Louis’ voice drones on in the background of the gentle buzzing noise of the class room but Harry tries to not let the soft tones of his voice get to his mind, and /no/, he does not focus on the way Louis’ accent deepens as he delves into topics which he has passion for. Because wouldn’t /that/ be stupid?

“Haz,” Ryan murmurs back and turns the lower half of his body to face Harry so that their knees knock. Harry slips on a grin, even though his mind is screaming /not old enough not mature enough not enough stubble not enough not/ to the point where the contact between them is making him feel nauseous.

But Harry is /fine/. He’s fucked a fifty year old man with excess chest hair and too-grabby hands, he can fucking flirt with a seventeen year old boy. 

“So. Ry, I heard that you keep staring at my ass in the hallway,” Harry mumbles slowly, his speech drawn out as he peers at Ryan from under his eyelashes with faux innocence in his eyes. No one had said that, of course, Harry barely speaks to anyone in the shithole besides Niall so the chance of that getting to him through Niall, the one person he knows that hates gossip, is very very small. However, the look on Ryan’s face as he stammers and tries to remain his cool is absolutely fucking priceless, so. Harry should do this more often. 

Harry giggles and leans over to brush his lips against the shell of Ryan’s ear, and begins murmuring,“it’s okay, I mean, my ass is pretty fant-” before he is cut off by a tanned hand slamming down on his desk and silencing the room. Harry slowly extracts himself to flick his eyes up at the man with distaste masking his hunger for him.

“Mr. Styles, I’m sure you and Mr. Crawford will have the time to exchange pleasantries later, but right now, I’d like you to focus on my lesson, if that isn’t too much trouble?” he says slowly. 

Harry quirks an eyebrow and bites his lip before he straightens up again, eyeing Louis with a level stare. Louis stares right back for a tense moment before he moves away to the front of the class, going back into his speech about the satire used within “The Importance of Being Earnest”.

He talks and talks and bites his lip and runs his fingers through his hair and laughs gently at Ellie’s crude response before straightening and correcting her vocabulary and he hands out sheets for homework and ushers the students out of the room when the bell signals the end of the day and loosens his tie as he reaches for a pen to tuck behind his ear. 

But Harry is still there, and when Louis notices, he frowns, his hand still in the air from mid-writing. “Mr. Styles?”

Harry hates him. Hates how he makes him feel. 

“I wanted to clarify something, Sir,” Harry says as he walks towards the front of the room, his backpack high on his shoulder. “I was just discussing with Ryan about sexual implications.”

Louis stiffens and presses his lips together, dropping his pen. “Mr. Styles, I don’t-”

Harry drops his bag and pushes himself into the space in between Louis’ thighs, dropping his hands down onto Louis’ thighs. “You don’t care, Sir?” Harry taunts gently, guessing (accurately) what Louis would have said. 

Louis gapes at him, his hands gripping the arms of his chair, fingertips digging into the undersides as he stares back at Harry, chest firm and strong. He shakes his head and makes a small noise at the back of his throat when Harry leans into him, aligning their hips.

“You wouldn’t care,” he murmurs. “if he was thinking about my ass?” Harry moves Louis’ hands to rest against Harry’s ass and presses down so that Louis is holding his ass firmly. Louis gasps but doesn’t move his hands away, captivated.

Louis shakes his head so Harry continues. “You wouldn’t care if he got to touch me? You wouldn’t care if he got to see me vulnerable and on my back? You wouldn’t care if-”

Harry suddenly gets cut off by Louis’ lips and the younger boy moans loudly into his teacher’s mouth, quickly crawling into Louis’ lap and grinding down until Louis is panting into his mouth. 

“I care, I care, I /fucking/ care,” Louis growls and Harry whimpers, tugging at Louis’ long hair, making the older man gasp. 

Curving his hands over Harry's jean clad thighs, Louis turns his chair and props Harry up on the clear desk, laying him down so that only his legs are dangling off the edge. Louis hums, taking in Harry's already flushed state with a smirk, Harry’s legs dangling off the edge of the wooden desk. Louis hums gently, roaming his rough hands over the younger boy’s edges and contours, tracing his favourite curves of Harry’s thighs and slim hips. He’s so fucking hot, and to see Harry who is normally so cheeky and boisterous, all laid out for him with his hands resting either side of his head and his chest rising and falling with each laboured breath, it gives Louis a rush of excitement and pride as his cock fattens in his slacks. 

Louis slides his hands to cup underneath the insides of Harry’s thighs and parts them, standing up and fitting himself inside the gap that Harry provides as his thighs fall apart in submission. Leaning down and letting his day-old stubble graze Harry’s soft, peachy skin, Louis presses his lips to the shell of Harry’s ear. “You see that seat at the back, Harry?” he murmurs, slowly.

Harry nods and Louis smiles, nipping gently at Harry’s earlobe as he continues. “That’s where you were sat this afternoon, weren’t you?” Another nod. “That’s where you were touching that boy and letting him touch you back, isn’t it?” Another nod and a gasp when Louis digs his fingertips into Harry’s thighs. “Well, no more, Harry. Because only /I/ get to touch you like that, you understand me?” Harry whimpers and nods, breathing out a “yes”. Louis smacks the inside of Harry’s thigh sharply. “What, Harry?”

Biting down on his bottom lip, Harry sobs out a “yes, /Sir/!”

Satisfied, Louis leans back and tugs at Harry’s jeans until they are dangling from the crooks of Harry’s ankles, exposing Harry’s flushed cock as it curves up against Harry’s curved tummy. Whilst Louis moves to cover Harry’s body with his bulge pressing into the naked flesh of Harry’s thighs, Harry mewls softly with his back arching off the hard desk. 

Louis smacks Harry’s hip sharply and instructs the younger boy to be quiet. Harry quickly obliges, because he’s good, he is. Louis drags his lips over the dips in Harry’s collarbones whilst he drags a fingertip along the crease of Harry’s ass, smirking as he feels Harry’s breath hitch beneath his touch. 

“L-lube,” Harry pants out and Louis stops all movement, leaning back to stare down at Harry with his pupils dilated and his lips parted as he pants gently. 

“Do you think I’m stupid, Harry?” he murmurs lowly. Harry shakes his head vehemently, cheeks flushed. “Because I know what I’m doing, Styles. So be quiet. You’ve been /bad/.”

Harry whimpers but nods, closing his eyes as he focuses on breathing and arching himself invitingly for his teacher. Nodding in satisfaction, Louis pulls his hand back to pull a satchet of lube from his back pocket and tears it open with his teeth, drizzling the substance onto his two middle fingers before sliding them into Harry with one swift movement. All breath leaves Harry in an instant and he keens, biting harshly down on his bottom lip as he adjusts to the stretch.

Louis fits his mouth around Harry’s right nipple and suckles gently as he stretches Harry out slowly before fitting in a third finger and cursing as Harry clenches around him. “So /tight/” he moans at the same time as Harry spreads his thighs further apart. 

Sucking at Harry’s chest, Louis twists his wrist and pumps his fingers in and out of Harry and curves his fingers so that the pads of his fingers are brushing up against Harry’s prostate. Harry gasps loudly and tightens his grip on the edge of the desk as he lifts his hips up in want. 

“Do you want fucked, Haz?” Louis murmurs softly, nipping at Harry’s shoulder to make him shake. He does. 

“Yes!” Harry gasps out and breathes out shakily in anticipation.

Louis presses their lips together to shush him and nods, extracting his fingers from Harry’s heat. Harry shakes and Louis pulls back again to watch Harry with satisfaction. Harry is flushed from his cheeks to his thighs, his lips are bitten sore and his cheeks are stained with blush and tears that have leaked from the corners of his beautiful eyes. 

He’s stunning and.. Harry isn’t his.

Biting his lip to keep any stupid words from floating out his mouth, Louis takes his cock in his hand and positions himself at Harry’s entrance before he pushes himself in with a loud curse. He takes in Harry’s gasp with a hard grip to Harry’s hip and his mouth covering Harry’s to swallow his moans. 

Louis slides in further until he’s fully seated inside of Harry and begins to rock in and out of Harry’s heat with his calloused hands gripping tightly onto the younger boy’s hips. Harry mewls loudly against Louis’ mouth and quickly wraps around his thighs around Louis’ hips to bring him in closer. 

Maybe it’s the stress that has latched onto his back or the fact that Louis hasn’t fucked anyone in weeks, but it’s sooner rather than later that he finds himself coming inside of Harry with a loud groan and a bucking of his strong hips. Harry whimpers and follows quickly after with a shaking hand on his cock, bringing himself to climax. 

The couple lay there, panting and sweaty as they cling necessarily to each other for what seems like forever but what is really only ten minutes when Louis speaks up.

“I want you to be mine, Harry.”

Harry tenses and Louis just wishes he wouldn’t do /that/. 

“Louis, please, it’s not..”

“Please don’t say it’s ‘not that easy’, Haz. Because I /know/ it isn’t but I don’t care. I.. I saw you with that prick of a fucking jock and.. I can’t, Harry. You belong with me. I want to mark you and have you and wake up next to you and fuck, you’re.. you’re my student. But- I don’t give a fuck,” Louis rambles out, his cheeks flushed.

Harry stares up at him in disbelief before he tugs Louis down for a hard kiss and Louis gives up quickly, melting into the kiss.

“Just.. it’s hard, Lou,” Harry mumbles up against Louis’ mouth. “But- I.. I wanna be yours, too. I /do/, but-”

“No buts,” Louis says quickly with his elbows on either side of Harry’s shoulders. “I want you, I want you to be mine and you want that too, so.. be mine. Fuck the clients. In fact, no, don’t. That’s my point. I want- I want you to stop, okay? And I’m a selfish bastard but... I want you.”

Harry scoffs, his cheeks bright red. “So, what? You want me to just stop fucking men at night and dancing on the weekends, huh?”

“Yes,” Louis responds immediately and Harry shuts up, scanning his eyes over Louis’ face.

“What do you expect me to do?” he murmurs. “Sex is all I’m good at.”

Louis’ heart crumbles slightly in his chest but he clears his throat, pushing past it to smile gently at the young boy in his lap. “You’re more than your body, Harry,” he murmurs. “You’re funny and smart and I’ve seen your photography, you know? You’re /good/, Harry. Do you remember that?” Harry does. Harry remembers laying on his back in the middle of Louis’ floor and flicking through his photographs on his phone to show Louis and he tries to forget the way Louis had looked at them and at /him/. But he remembers that, too. “I think... you’re just so much /more/, baby, and you should realise that, okay?”

Harry takes out a shuddering breath but says nothing, contemplating his decisions. Sex is all he knows and it’s safe and it’s something he can rely on but his photography... it’s something new and exciting and possibly /good/ for him and his future. 

It’s silent for so long before Harry nods and kisses his teacher hard, mumbling a soft, “okay” against his mouth and the response of Louis’ delighted laugh is more than worth it, if you ask him. 

\- 

The first lesson after Harry and Louis’ mutual agreement to be...exclusive, let’s say, is definitely... different. Harry is fidgety at the back of the class, and Niall isn’t there so at least he has one less worry because no one else really pays attention to what he’s like in class. They’re all too bothered about the volume of their quiffs and if their foundation is layered properly, so that’s all very nice and pretentious. Harry doesn’t care.

What Harry does care about is how Louis keeps passing his desk to “help” him out with the work assigned whilst the rest of the class busies themselves with their work. Louis’ lips definitely brush a tad too close to his ear purposefully just to make Harry shiver - and it’s so stupid how Louis can make Shakespeare sound so fucking seductive, and it’s definitely /unfair/ the way he does it. 

Louis’ hand brushes over Harry’s thigh as he leans down to explain some vocabulary from the play, and Harry squirms in his seat, his breath suddenly coming a bit faster against the length of Louis’ neck. Louis smirks gently and turns his head to look at Harry, with a glint in his blue eyes. “Are you alright there, Harry?” he says. 

Harry blushes delicately, adding more colour to his already reddening cheeks as he nods, biting his lip sharply to keep any embarrassing sounds from escaping his mouth. “Yes, Mr. Tomlinson,” Harry murmurs, his eyes locked on Louis’. 

Louis smiles winningly at the younger boy and squeezes Harry’s thigh under the table before he straightens up again, with a “good boy” murmured between the two. Then Louis makes his way to the other students in need of help, progressing his way back to the front of the room. Harry’s eyes are unashamedly locked on the fullness of Louis’ ass and he knows Louis knows because, fuck, that man knows everything there is to know about Harry by now. 

Eventually Louis moves back to the front of the class, sitting on the edge of the desk with his feet dangling off the edge and Harry really, really wants to suck his boyfriend’s - boyfriend!! - cock. Hopefully everyone wouldn’t be in the same room at that point but fuck, he’s been an exhibitionist before. He’d do it for Louis. 

Today’s topic is Shakespeare’s play, “Much Ado about Nothing” and Harry can’t keep his eyes off Louis’ lips, his thumb coming up to stroke along the pillow of his bottom lip subconsciously. He really, really wants to kiss his boyfriend. But Louis Tomlinson is a fucking twat, and obviously, he decides to leave Harry alone for the remainder of the class, his hands locked together and hovering above his crotch as he continues his lecture upon the themes of the comedic play. Harry hates him so much. 

The class finishes and Harry is a flushed mess, his cock lined heavily against his thigh and his lips bright red due to the assault from his white teeth. Luckily, his boyfriend is sat at the front of the room with a smirk on his thin lips, all too happy to help Harry out. 

So that’s how Harry Styles got fucked in between classes by his very sexy, much older boyfriend slash teacher. 

-

Harry is draped over Louis’ back, his fingertips dancing along the waistband of Louis’ grey slacks with his mouth dancing patterns along the length of his neck whilst the older man tries to mark papers - which is increasingly hard with an insistent sixteen year old boy fawning all over him and trying to make him get naked. He’d already persuaded Louis to do his marking shirtless so he’s had fun just rubbing his hands up and down Louis’ naked torso, his thumbs ghosting over Louis’ nipples. What was even more fun was the way that Louis had tried to ignore his reactions and not push into Harry’s hands and the soft curses under his breath. 

“Haz,” Louis murmurs in warning (again). “I can’t concentrate on work when you’re trying to get me naked, love.”

Harry giggles and takes the papers out of Louis’ hands, ignoring his sounds of protests and pushes them to the side before he climbs into Louis’ lap, mischief written on his features. Louis stares back at him in disbelief, his eyes widening and his lips parting, ready to shoot out a word of protest but Harry can see the hint of lust in his eyes so he takes the initiative and presses their lips together. When Louis moans gratefully and grabs onto Harry’s hips, he knows that he’s made the right decision. Louis gasps softly into Harry’s mouth as their tongues meet and Harry shuffles further forward on Louis’ lap so that their hips are aligned, their chests touching. 

They kiss heatedly for minutes, Harry’s thighs framing Louis’ hips as he moves slowly on Louis’ lap with Louis’ strong hands leaving bruises into the curves of his hips. 

“I... I should really work,” Louis mumbles whilst unbuttoning Harry’s shirt and the younger boy smirks, rubbing his hands up and down Louis’ chest whilst staring down at his boyfriend with a smirk on his lips.

“Yeah, you really look like it,” he chuckles softly and shrugs his shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. 

Louis rolls his eyes fondly and attaches his mouth to Harry’s neck, sucking in a gentle bruise into the base of Harry’s throat. Harry moans, rotating his hips in small circles as he breathes out in gentle pants. “I’m good, I do my work /on time/, all the time,” Louis mumbles against Harry’s skin. The younger boy gasps gently as blood rushes to the surface of his pale skin when Louis bites down on the reddening spot. “Just because I’m taking a break to fuck my pretty young boyfriend doesn’t mean I’m a /slacker/,” Louis continues and puts emphasis on the last word with a bite to Harry’s nipple that makes the younger boy choke out a sob. His nipples are very sensitive and Louis fucking /knows/ it. He loves that. He loves that Louis knows every single inch of his body and how to hold him and kiss him and Harry loves him.

Shit. No. No no no. Harry doesn’t love Louis. No, he takes it back. He can’t love Louis, apart from the fact that they’re meant to be in a strictly no-feelings relationship thing, Louis is his /teacher/ and there’s no absolute way that anything feasible could happen past this stage. But the thing is, what if it could? What if Harry wants it to? Harry isn’t on the streets anymore - because of Louis - and he’s doing better in school now, his grades are rising - because of Louis - and his self-image is much higher than it had been this time last year - because of Louis - and he feels worthy now - because of Louis.

Harry Styles is so fucked.

Louis palms over Harry’s crotch, Harry’s tense fifteen seconds gone unnoticed and Harry quickly schools his expression back into what it was so that Louis won’t see the fear and the caution hidden in his eyes because he /knows/ Louis, and he knows that Louis would stop this right now and Harry needs... he needs fucked. By his boyfriend. If they can fuck without Harry thinking about how good it would be on their wedding night, then Harry will be fine. 

Louis looks up at his boyfriend with a smirk on his lips as he gropes Harry in his hand and the younger boy gasps, thoughts of ‘I love you’, ‘I want you’ and ‘I need to drown in your eyes’ pulsing through his mind. Bringing their lips together, Harry moans into the kiss and grinds down into his boyfriend’s palm with a whine fighting at the back of his throat. 

“‘M gonna fuck you real good,” Louis mumbles against Harry’s lips and takes no time in unzipping Harry’s jeans and sliding both his tight jeans and his Calvin Klein boxers down to his ankles, watching Harry with parted lips as he kicks them down to the floor, leaving him totally bare. Harry has never felt so vulnerable yet so wanted in his life and it gives him the confidence to whisper a gentle, “slow”.

Louis flicks his eyes to look at Harry as he gets his cock out, holding himself in his hand. “Slow?” he repeats in a whisper and Harry nods, breathing shakily. 

“Want you to go slow - fuck me slow,” he breathes, his cheeks a scarlet red as he casts his gaze down to Louis’ leaking cock. He thinks Louis will laugh at him for a second before his chin is being tilted up by Louis’ thumb and forefinger so that their lips can brush together with a gentle, “anything for you, baby,” ghosted across Harry’s parted lips.

Harry wants to fucking cry.

Harry smiles and pushes harder into the kiss with his arms slung around Louis’ neck as he deepens the kiss with a shaky whine, his tongue pushing at Louis’ lips until he grants him access. Licking into Louis’ mouth, Harry moans and ruts his hips up whilst his boyfriend slicks himself up with their flavoured lube and slides a condom down over his length. Louis pauses and looks into Harry’s eyes. “I- do you need prep?” he mumbles and shakes his head numbly because he’d taken care of himself before he’d came over. Louis nods and his rough, calloused hands come to settle back on Harry’s small hips, rising him up over his cock so that the leaking head catches on his open rim and Harry gasps loudly, stopping the kiss to just breathe over Louis’ lips.

Rubbing his hands up and down Harry’s sides, Louis tilts his chin up. “Are you okay, baby? We can stop if-” and Harry shuts him up in one movement as he sinks down on Louis’ cock slowly. They can’t stop, Harry needs this. Louis moans brokenly, his blunt fingernails digging into the flesh of Harry’s thighs as the younger boy bottoms out on Louis’ cock and all blood rushes to his pulsing cock which is nestled snugly inside of Harry’s heat. 

Experimentally shifting his hips to pull Louis in deeper, Harry rests his forehead against Louis’ shoulder whilst he rolls his hips and pants gently against the tanned skin. They stay like that for a few minutes, Harry panting against Louis’ neck and moving his hips in slow eight figures on Louis’ cock whilst Louis squeezes his eyes shut and clutches onto Harry’s hips to ground himself, reminding himself that Harry wants this /slow/. 

Once he’s comfortable and sure of himself, Harry pulls back and plants his hands on Louis’ chest as he brings himself up to the point where Louis is almost slipping out of his hole before he slides down Louis’ cock again, moaning loudly at the stretch of Louis’ cock. He sets the pace with his eyes closed and his lips parted to let out gentle moans and soft pants whilst he fucks himself on Louis’ cock slowly. If he doesn’t look into Louis’ eyes then maybe he won’t feel as much. 

Harry bites down his bottom lip as the head of Louis’ cock hits his spot just right, and the younger boy has to swallow back a sob at just how /good/ it feels. He digs his blunt fingernails into Louis’ chest and moves faster on his boyfriend’s cock. He hears Louis gasp out a breathy, “slow, baby, r-remember?” but he ignores it and fucks himself harshly on Louis’ cock with his thighs straining on either side of Louis’ hips before he releases his bottom lip to let out a high moan, collapsing onto Louis’ chest with a whine. Harry whimpers gently when Louis fills him up, shifting his hips and shivering when he feels the hot substance trickle down his thighs. 

Louis is panting, pressing sloppy kisses into the side of Harry’s neck as he holds him close to his sweaty chest. It’s uncomfortable but it’s nice, still, to be so close to Louis in the most intimate way that he can think of. 

“Love,” Louis breathes out quietly and Harry’s hopes perk up, brightness flooding his senses before it all crashes down into a pit when Louis finishes his sentence with “-d that, you’re so sexy, Haz”. Harry wants to die. 

But Harry is good at putting up a front and he nods, turning his head to press their lips together with a hum. He loves kissing Louis, he loves Louis. 

“I try my best,” he teases lightheartedly and clenches around Louis purposefully, grinning gently when Louis lets out a cross between a chuckle and a groan, his rough (beautiful) hands clamp back down onto Harry’s hips and squeezes.

“Cheeky,” his boyfriend mumbles and Harry nods, blushing as he hides his face in his boyfriend’s neck. 

Letting out a low chuckle, Louis rubs a hand up and down Harry’s back. “Wanna nap for a bit? I can finish these papers and you can get your beauty sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up, baby,” Louis murmurs and Harry nods, looking for an escape.

Thing is, it’s hard to escape from your boyfriend (whom you’re in love with) when your every dream consists of his laughing blue eyes and gently rough hands. 

-

It’s tense this time of the year. Exams are rapidly approaching, there’s the question of who’s taking who to prom and some people in Harry’s year even have their driving exam coming up in a few weeks. But that’s really nothing compared to the passivity that hangs in the air between him and Louis during lessons. Like an idiot, Harry hadn’t called Louis for two weeks, quickly writing it off as “stress with exams, Lou” and “problems at home, just leave it, yeah?” as well as occasionally skipping Louis’ lessons in order to bypass the lingering looks and confusion sent from Louis’ aura. 

His English exam is way too close to miss out on any more lessons now, though, so he’s had to drag himself (or more accurately, be dragged in by Niall) into the classroom. His curls are getting longer, though, so at least he has a way to hide his face from his boyfriend. If he can even still refer to Louis as that anymore. 

If not, it’s just the guy that’s made Harry feel like his heart is taking up ninety seven percent of his body with the emotions that threaten to burst and tear him apart.

Louis is talking (in his beautiful, delicate but strong and accented voice) about the correct way to go about writing the later essays in the exam, his legs spread as he sits up on the desk and lets his hands wander in the air as he demonstrates his point with stupid silly anecdotes.

Harry loves him so much. 

Harry’s not even one hundred percent sure that he’s even understanding the words that are coming out of Louis’ chapped lips when Niall nudges him and he realises that everyone is staring at him, Louis included.

Of course.

Blood rushes up into Harry’s cheeks and he clears his throat, flicking his gaze up to meet Louis’. “P-pardon?” he asks solemnly. The girls giggle in the classroom, biting their lip in satisfaction, obviously dying to see Louis rip into him. If only they knew. 

Louis opens his mouth to say something but before he can utter a word, Veronica, a girl with fake glasses and bubblegum pink nails, speaks up snottily, “He /said/ that maybe all of us should be paying attention. Which, /I/ certainly am! Are you, Harry?” She smiles sickly sweet at Harry. adoration in her eyes as she flicks her gaze to Louis before finally settling a dark look on Harry again. 

All Harry can see is red, (he certainly misses the way Louis flushes and moves to stand up off his desk) so it’s really not his fault when he blurts out, “Veronica? Shut the fuck up because listening to every single word Mr. Tomlinson says doesn’t mean he’s gonna let you suck his dick after class so cut the fucking act, sweetheart”.

Silence follows and Niall coughs a bit too loudly on the air that he had sucked in but Harry doesn’t really give a fuck. Even Louis is stunned into silence, his cheeks a blooming red to match Harry’s. A bittersweet feeling of ownership over their matching cheeks floods him before he can control himself.

Veronica narrows her eyes and rolls her eyes. “Well he sure as hell isn’t gonna let /you/ suck his dick, is he?!” she retorts back and Harry’s cheeks flame up quickly, turning his skin a beetroot red. Kind of like when Niall spends too much time in the sun without very much shade. 

Harry opens his mouth again but Louis quickly steps in, slamming his hand down on his desk. “That’s /enough/, ladies and gentlemen! We all have an exam coming up in a few weeks and our topic of conversation is /really/ not over who is going to be orally satisfied in this room - which is no one, I should hope,” he loudly states, scanning the room with his blue eyes before landing on Harry. “Understood?”

Everyone nods, and Harry’s sure that Louis’ trying to tell him something with his eyes but he’s... exhausted, with everything so he dismisses the thought and submissively ducks his head again. 

Louis audibly lets out a sigh and sits back on the edge of his desk, going back into his speech about the correct method of essay writing under pressure, albeit a little bit shakily. Harry endures it and wants to thank any divine being there is when the bell finally signals out. He doesn’t quite hear it at first so when he does come into focus, there’s only Louis in front of him and a blush on his stained cheeks. Even Niall has left the room.

Reluctantly, Harry lifts his chin to look up at his boyfriend and swallows audibly.

“Hey,” he mumbles and Louis nods in greeting, biting down on his lower lip.

“Hey,”

“I should go home...” Harry mumbles again and stands up, chucking his bag over his shoulder, wincing when his chair makes a scraping sound due to the rapid movement of him getting up. But Harry doesn’t advance away from his chair because Louis’ hand shoots out to grab Harry’s wrist. 

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he says simply, and Harry can’t even deny it so he shrugs his shoulders.

“I’ve had stuff on,” he whispers and tucks a stray curl behind his ear. The grip on his wrist is tight but manageable and Harry really likes it.He smiles apologetically and clears his throat. “I need to go.”

 

“Not until you tell me why you’ve been avoiding me and my lessons, Haz,” Louis whispers back, equally as quiet and Harry has to bite back a whimper, shifting on his feet. Louis walks around the desk so that they’re standing chest to chest and Harry has to tilt his head a little to look into Louis’ blue eyes. He breathes out shakily, the breath fanning out against Louis’ throat. 

“I..I..”

“Haz,” Louis pleads. “The past few weeks have been fucking /shit/. If you want this to be done, fucking say it. I can take it, I’m a grown man, for Christs sake. But /don’t/ lead this on longer than it has to, alright? That’s shit. I’d rather you tell me now than dream about your lips and your laugh and your smile and how I can make you happy every fucking night until you decide to break it to me, yeah? Just... tell me,”

The urgency in Louis’ eyes is heartbreaking and Harry has to bite back a whimper, his breath hitching in his throat because for /fucks sake/. Harry brings his hand up and thumps his boyfriend’s chest. “You idiot!” he hisses.

Louis whines, grabbing Harry’s other wrist and shakes his head in disbelief. “/What/?!”

“I..,” and Harry almost says it before he shakes his head, trying to remove his wrists from Louis’ grip. “L-let go,” he gasps, trying not to cry. 

Louis shakes his head and tightens his grip, pulling Harry closer so that their lips are bare inches from each other and their chests are touching firmly together. “/Tell/ me, damn it,” he curses out in a breath.

“I’m in love with you!” Harry blurts, all colour draining from his face. Because, /shit/! He’s fucked it, he’s fucked it up, so /bad/! Harry is now gonna lose the love of his fucking life and he’s gonna die alone and fail his exams and his mum is gonna fucking /kill/ him and no one is gonna be able to touch him like Louis has touched him and Harry is crying, sobbing openly into Louis’ chest, his shoulders shaking. 

He’s just waiting for Louis to step back and to tell him to get the fuck out of his classroom when a warm pair of lips press on top of his and Harry gasps, falling easily into the kiss with a whimper. Louis is /kissing/ him!

“Took you fucking long enough,” Louis murmurs when they pull apart and Harry gazes back at his boyfriend with blurry, confused vision. “‘Ve been in love with you for fucking weeks, Harry Styles.”

“W-what?”

“I’ve been in love with you since that morning when you stayed over at mine and I woke up next to you and I realised that.. I want to wake up next to you for as many more mornings as you’ll have me, Harry Styles.”

Harry could fucking /cry/. Unfortunately, he’s already bloody doing that so technically, that option is off the cards, so to speak. 

Throwing himself at Louis, Harry drops his bag and he’s never been happier for Louis to pick him up in his entire life. They kiss messily, Louis holding Harry up solidly and Harry wetting Louis’ cheeks with his own tears.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Harry mumbles, pressing endless kisses to his beloved boyfriend’s mouth.

“I love you too, pumpkin,” Louis whispers fondly and Harry giggles wetly, pressing their mouths back together before mumbling a soft, “take me home? ‘M a mess.”

“My mess,” Louis corrects, and of course he’s right.

“I’ll always be your mess, Lou,” Harry mumbles, smiling waterily at his boyfriend and Louis chuckles, kissing the wetness away from Harry’s cheeks as he gently lets Harry down onto the ground.

“C’mon, darling, we’ll go home and take a bath, yeah? Kiss those knots in your shoulders away,” Louis murmurs affectionately into Harry’s hair once Harry has picked up his bag from the floor with a blush.

“I love you,” is all that Harry says and Louis’ answering grin is enough. 

-

Once Harry is out of school, Harry and Louis spend more and more time together until the point where Harry is barely away from Louis and it’s... comfortable. They can technically be together now that Harry is no longer Louis’ student and it’s nice to be able to kiss Louis’ neck in the back of a cinema and go to a restaurant and hold hands on the table (with only small glances from other people). Harry loves it, but he definitely loves Louis more. Louis helps Harry apply for photography classes at the local college, and Harry has never been so grateful to someone other than his mother. He likes relying on Louis for things. 

Louis has been thinking about it for days. He can’t get enough of his younger boyfriend and he wants Harry for the rest of his life; not /quite/ like the way that some people might think he wants him for, but he definitely wants Harry for as long as Harry will have him. So, when they’re both coming down from their orgasms, Louis’ fingertips dancing over the curve of Harry’s hip, Louis decides to take the step and breaks the comfortable silence with his voice. 

“Move in with me,” Louis whispers against the shell of Harry’s ear and Harry gasps softly, turning   
over to look at his boyfriend seriously. It’s been three weeks since Harry had finished compulsory education and he spends most of his time at Louis’ flat anyway, especially since his mum is at work a lot of the time but the request still comes as a shock.

“W-what?” he murmurs. 

“Move in with me,” his boyfriend says again, his voice more confident again as he props himself up on his elbow to gaze at Harry seriously. 

Harry can feel blush rush up into his cheeks and he bites his lip, laughing breathlessly as he stares back at his older boyfriend, rubbing a thumb over Louis’ wrist. “You’re- you’re serious?”

Louis nods and presses several kisses to Harry’s mouth. “Please move in with me. It’s close to the college and you’re here all the time anyway and I want you here, I want to be here for you, every single step of you going for your dream, and I want to come home to you and you’re perfect and and... please.” By the time, he finishes, he’s breathless and blushing as he stares at Harry hopefully.

Harry giggles and presses his lips back against Louis’ with a wide smile on his lips. “Of course I’ll move in with you, you fucking sap,” he mumbles. “I was going to ask you anyway,” he says bashfully. “Told mum I’d find a friend to move in with and... you’re my best friend,” he pauses. “Don’t tell Niall.”

Grinning widely, Louis presses Harry’s body down into the mattress as he slides a leg in between Harry’s thighs as he massages his hands on Harry’s hips. “I fucking love you,” Louis mumbles and pulls back, happiness bright in his face and Harry feels so fucking elated because /he did that/!

“You’re so cute,” Harry pants out with a dimpled grin, running his fingers through Louis’ hair whilst Louis kisses down Harry’s neck. Louis chuckles gently and nips gently at Harry’s pulse point to make the younger boy choke out a whine, which Louis follows up with a wide grin and a hard kiss to Harry’s neck. 

Harry tugs Louis up to press their mouths together in a sweet kiss, running his fingers up and down Louis’ back as their lips move together in synchronisation. “Oh, and by the way?” he murmurs as he shivers beneath Louis’ hands. “If you think me moving in with you means more sex in each and every room of this flat, then you are one hundred percent correct.”

Louis laughs and makes his way kissing up and down Harry’s chest, feeling lighter than he ever has felt in his entire life. It seems that everything is falling into place and he couldn’t be any happier as he gazes up at his boyfriend from under his eyelashes. 

“I love you.”

“I love you more,” Harry argues breathlessly, his lips pulling into a challenging smirk which quickly falls from his mouth when Louis tugs Harry into a hard kiss. Harry moans gently into the kiss, tightening his thighs around Louis’ hips. 

“Forget it, Styles,” he chuckles and the man knows that as long as Louis has Harry in his arms, he knows that everything will be just fine.


End file.
